


The Last Goodbye

by lipah



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Dementia, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Not Beta Read, Sad Ending, Suicide, Sunseeker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: AU where Laura never shows up, Logan saves up to get The Sunseeker and takes Charles out to live on the ocean away from civilisation.Written because my friend wanted me to.





	The Last Goodbye

 

*********

There's no time for us,  
There's no place for us,  
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us.

 *********

 

            Logan rolled onto his side, reaching out to silence his alarm clock. His hand collided with the plastic and it cracked unpleasantly as it stopped wailing. It had been a quiet few weeks, the school running normally without some supervillain showing up to throw a wrench into life. Maybe it was because Erik was living at the mansion for the time being, or maybe it was just a few lucky days. Either way, it was a nice break from the normal chaos of his life. He stretched the sleep heavy feeling from his limbs and then relaxed against his bed. He wanted to revel in this feeling as long as he could because he knew it could never last. There was something coming, there was always something coming, it was just a matter of time.

 

            Logan listened to the sounds of the school; he could hear the children shuffling around already. They were dragging themselves from their beds, racing to get to the showers before the bathrooms were too busy, or trying to get forgotten homework done before classes started. He listened to the comfortably familiar sounds of life around him for a few minutes and then got up. He had a full day ahead of him, and he really didn't have time to laze around. He needed to see Charles before the day started, and he had promised a few students that he would help them in the danger room during their free period. He was also meeting with Jubilee for lunch and had been roped into helping Hank with an experiment later that afternoon.

 

            He went into his en suite, stripped off his clothing, showered for too long, and then got ready for the day. He was late when he left his room, but he didn't think that Charles would mind a few more minutes of peace before his day really started. “Morning Logan,” a messed haired boy said pushing passed him. It wasn't a long way to Charles room from his own, but Logan had to dodge frantic children and adults alike, so it took a few more minutes than it normally would have. He was half way there when the world started to shake around him. People started screaming and running before he even had time to figure out what was happening. For a second, it seemed like an earthquake or maybe Avalanche had decided to try something. Those thoughts were chased away when the world seemed to flip sideways and his hearing was blown out. Logan was pulled to the ground and everything kept shaking around him.

 

            A physic had to be responsible, he realised, as an invisible weight crushed him to the ground. He had to get to Charles, he was sure he would be safer there. He tried to crawl, but his body was too heavy, so he struggled for a few minutes. Then he forced out his claws, shoved them into the ground, to drag himself the rest of the way to the bedroom door. He had to go around other people, and as he went he realised that some of the children were bleeding. The smell hit him, apparently the only one of his senses that hadn't been destroyed by the attack. A face came into view in front of him, there was blood leaking from their eyes, noses, and ears. They were still trying to scream, but there was no noise now, just ringing. It left their mouth frozen open in horrific screams.

 

            The door to Charles' room was cracked out, but it didn't make it any easier to get inside. The ringing and shaking were getting worse, the closer he got to the bedroom, and the walls had started to crumble. The building was coming down around him, his vision was swimming now, and there was red filter creeping over his eyes that had to be blood. He didn't make it into Charles' room, and he was unconscious long before the shaking stopped.

 

            It was a seizure, he learned later. He had woken up buried under the rubble of the building, the only one who had managed to dig his way out. There were emergency workers and the bodies of his family, spread out around him. He found Charles encased in a metal dome that Logan cut open with his claws. Erik's body was in the dome with him, lying on the ground next to Charles, his hand still pressed to the edge of the dome. It looked like Erik had tried to contain the power, but he had only managed to keep Charles safe from the falling school. Erik hadn't survived the seizure; his body was crumpled to the ground, blood on his face, and his eyes gone from their sockets. Charles was crying, screaming and sobbing, about what he had done. The damage was astronomical; the school was obliterated, the city was in ruins, and—even though no one knew it yet—another mutant wouldn't be born naturally for a very long time. Thousands of people died, humans and mutants alike, and Charles and Logan were the only ones to walk away from the ruins of the school.

 

            People started calling for Charles' head, demanding he is killed for his crimes. The loudest people were families of the students, the ones who had loved their children, and only wanted the best for them. Charles wanted to face the punishment, but as Logan sat next to him, and listened to the man explain why he deserved to die for what he'd done, he couldn't take it. Logan took Charles and ran because he was the only one left. Logan had worked too hard to build a life, to find a home; he wasn't going to lose his last friend. Other people helped them hide at first, but the seizures didn't stop, and more people died. So, the help slowly stopped coming. Moira found a medication to ease the seizures, and another medication to make Charles forget what he had done.

 

            She took Logan aside and did tests on him too when she realised that he was coughing. “Your skeleton is poisoning you,” she whispered.

 

            “I know,” he said.

 

            “Your powers... I don' understand it, but—”

 

            “It's fine, Moira,” he said. “I'm fine.” She died during another seizure that Logan ended as her heart gave out. He took Charles away before he could see what happened to her. When all the help was finally gone, Logan found a place in Mexico for them. He locked Charles away with promises of the ocean and a better life.

 

            He took a job driving, using his real name and a rented car. Caliban came later after Logan found him by mistake one night. It was a good deal for both of them, Charles had a permanent caregiver, and Caliban had a place to hide. There was a group now, hunting down the rest of the mutants, killing them one by one. Logan didn’t have the energy to care about them anymore. He hadn't been the same since the first seizure, his age was catching up with him, and his body was slowly down. His powers were slipping away, more and more each day. Alcohol numbed the pain that was forming inside of him, but some nights he still coughed up blood and wished he could die. He would stretch out on the backseat of his car, and pray that something would let him die.

 

                        It never did.

 

 

*********

What have I become  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know  
Goes away in the end 

*********

 

 

            It was still dark when they pulled up to the dock where The Sunseeker was tied. The boat was big enough for four people, leaving them with enough room to be comfortable. Logan climbed out of his truck, looking out at the water in front of him. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily, it was good to finally be here. Caliban got the wheelchair from the back, and Logan lifted Charles from his seat and set him in the chair. Charles was babbling as they moved him, reciting commercials and bits of television shows. “You only have a few week of medicine left,” Caliban said as he handed Logan a bag.

 

            “I know,” he answered and slung the bag across the handles of the wheelchair. Caliban reached for Logan's shoulder and took a shaking breath.

 

            “You aren't immune—”

 

            “I know,” Logan snapped. Caliban pulled his hand back tucking it against his chest, sighed, and then nodded his head. “We'll be in the middle of the ocean before we run out. He'll be too far away from land to hurt anyone.”

 

            “So that's what those maps were for,” Caliban mumbled remembering Logan hunched over the table maps spread out across them. He had been measuring and checking for the place that was farthest away from land. “You don't need to do this, Logan.”

 

            “Yes, I do,” he answered. He pushed Charles onto the boat; he set his chair next to the ship's wheel, beside where Logan would sit. Then locked the wheels and then pulled a belt through the wheels, to keep it in place once they set sail. Caliban helped him carry their bags onboard, as well as a bunch of new fishing equipment and canned foods. They would have to fish for the rest of their food, and maybe if things got bad, head back to land to find something else. But, Logan was confident that they had enough to get by for a few years. If they lasted that long.

 

            “He'll remember,” Caliban said softly as Logan checked the truck for anything that might have been forgotten.

 

            “It's time he did,” Logan said. He started toward the boat, but paused and looked back at Caliban. He looked so worried, standing there, his hands ringing in front of him, and his eyes open wide. “You know why we can't take you, right?”

 

            “I'd burn to nothing,” Caliban answered but he knew that wasn't what Logan meant.

 

            “You can go back to your old life now, there are still a few mutants out there, you'd be welcomed with them,” Logan said.

 

            “I've already found a place to stay. Bliss reached out to me, it seems she and at least one other former Morlock are there.” Caliban answered. Logan nodded his head and gave him a small, half-hearted smile.

 

            “It'll be good for you,” Logan said.

 

            “You could come as well, Logan,” Caliban said slowly.

 

            “But Charles isn't welcome, and I ain't about to leave him alone,” Logan said.

 

            “You don't deserve that, Logan,” Caliban said.

 

            “What do you know,” Logan said but Caliban only frowned at him.

 

            “I know that you're a better man than you've ever let yourself believe,” Caliban said. “You'll die out there.”

 

            Logan turned to look at the ocean and the boat that was now his home. He could see Charles through the window, still talking like someone was there with him, looking old and insane. He turned back to Caliban and shrugged his shoulders. “That's the plan,” he said and patted his pocket. The adamantium bullet sat heavy against his leg, a constant reminder of where he was going. Caliban looked surprised by his honesty, but Logan had already decided that he deserved answers to his questions now. Since Logan wasn't going to see him again, now was the only time to give him those. He dug into his jacket pocket, found an envelope, and then he held it out to Caliban.

 

            “What's this?” he asked.

 

            “It’s your share of the savings,” he answered. “I managed to get a better deal than I thought I would. Since you’re not coming, this is for you. I've... I've also been the keepin' track of questions you've asked me. There's a letter in there, explaining everything.”

 

            “Thank you, Logan,” Caliban said and tucked the envelope into his pocket. Logan held his hand out to shake. Caliban took Logan’s hand, and then pulled him into a quick hug.

 

            “Be safe, Logan,” Caliban said.

 

            “You too, Buddy. You too,” Logan said and then stepped away from him. He nodded once at him, and then went back onto the boat. He untied the boat and tossed the rope onto the dock. He watched Caliban climb back into the truck and then headed to the wheel.

 

            “Where is Caliban going?” Charles asked sounding lucid in a way he hadn’t in years.

 

            “Back home,” Logan answered. Charles seemed to consider this and then slowly nodded his head.

 

            “He'll be happy there,” Charles said and settled more into his chair. Logan glanced at him for a seconded and then started the boat, letting the engine warm up before he steered out into the open water.

 

 

*********

 I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory  
Some happy, some sad  
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had  
We live happily forever, so the story goes  
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold  
But we'll try best that we can to carry on

 *********

 

 

            Logan sat on the deck, a fishing rod in his hands, waiting to catch something. It was a warm day, and the sun was beating down on him. He liked the way it felt against his skin, he liked the almost silence the ocean gave them. The only sounds came from the waves against the side of the boat, and the noises that Charles and Logan made themselves. They were too far out for birds, and he hadn’t seen another ship in months. He heard Charles wheelchair a moment later, coming out of the cabin, and into the sunlight. “Where are we?” he asked slowly.

 

            “On the Sunseeker, remember?” Logan answered. He spoke softly, trying to make his gruff voice sound calm and soothing.

 

            “Yes, of course,” he answered. He rolled to Logan’s side and stared out at the ocean. Logan looked at him, watching the man’s face as he processed his thoughts. The days were often like this, Charles would appear at his side to think things through, and then disappear back inside when the sun got to be too much for him. It had been a week since Charles had last taken any pills, so now Logan waited for the seizures to begin. Some days, Logan thought about taking some of Charles’ pills himself, to see if it would ease his own mind, but he never did. Instead, he let the sun burn his skin as he fished, and hoped for Charles to come back to himself.

 

            Other days they spoke to each other, had conversations about what life had been like. Charles memories were disjointed and connecting together incorrectly, but Logan didn't correct him. He just let the man talk things through. Sometimes, Logan would catch Charles trying to use his powers to reach out to others, he didn't know if Charles would manage, but he always told him to stop it. “You're gonna get us killed,” he snapped. Charles stared at him like he was a child and then rolled his eyes. Logan would say nothing back.

 

            “We should go back to land,” Charles said, one night as the ocean tossed the boat back and forth. “It would be safer there, with more food and supplies. We could find somewhere else to stay.”

 

            “I think it’s better here,” Logan answered scrubbing the last bit of food off the plates from dinner.

 

            “You’ve just found another way to trap me,” Charles said softly, an echo of confusion hidden in the words.

 

            “Both of us, Chuck,” he answered. He didn't bother reminding the other man, that he had loved the idea of being out at sea. He didn't tell him about how excited he had been when Logan first brought home the ad for the boat. He went back to Charles, pulled the belt from between the wheels of his chair, and then took him to bed. He lifted him up and then placed him carefully on the mattress. Logan sorted out the covers around the man, and then let him pull them up himself. He knew that Charles hated how he was caring for him, that Charles hated being an old infirm man, but that's how it was now. “I’m sorry,” Logan said after a minute of silence. Charles just huffed and rolled onto his side. Logan didn’t sleep that night, just listened to the ocean slamming into the sides of the boat. He could hear Charles too, breathing softly just a few feet away in his own bed. The boat tossed back and forth, making Logan's stomach turn.

 

            His healing wasn’t the only ability that he was losing; his sight was going, it was getting harder to hear things farther away, and his strength was going too. His bones were too heavy in his body now, weighing him down and making him stumble as he walked. Even as he climbed out of bed, he found that he would fall back, and have to struggle for a moment before he could get to his feet. His feet, ankles, and back were always sore. Like the weight of the adamantium was trying to drag him down lower to the ground.

 

When he woke up in the morning, his body ached with the age that was finally catching up to him. He would start breakfast when he got up and then he would wait for Charles to call him. He would lift him out of bed and back into his chair. Then he’d push him wherever it was that Charles wanted to go in the boat. “I remember Erik,” Charles said, as he lifted a shaking fork from his plate to his mouth.

 

            “What do you remember about him?” Logan asked. Charles froze suddenly, and then the fork fell from his hand. Logan had enough time to hear the metal clatter to the table top before the seizure started. Logan grabbed for the medicine, kept close at hand, so the boat wouldn't be destroyed. He stabbed the needle into Charles a minute later, the man gasping and sobbing as he came back to himself. He sat, staring down at his food, shaking in his chair. Logan just watched him. Charles calmed down soon enough, by taking deep breaths and counting things around him on the boat. Logan hoped that Charles might say something afterwards, but it didn't happen that day. Instead, Charles sat, his chair strapped to the floor, staring out one of the windows into the choppy water. Logan left him there, grabbed a fishing line and caught their dinner.

 

            “Why do you keep me here?” Charles asked one day, long into the afternoon when Logan had thought he had fallen asleep.

 

            “You know why, Chuck,” he mumbled, flipping the page of his book. He squinted at the page in front of him, trying to make out what the words said and failing.

 

            “No I don't,” he snapped. “I don't know why you insist on keeping me out here, where I can do no good for anyone.”

 

            “They'll kill you back on land,” Logan said.

 

            “You don't know what they'll do! You're being a dramatic child, Logan! Too afraid to face your problems head on, so you've sailed out into nothing, in a last attempt to be free of them!” Charles shouted. Logan sighed and sunk down lower in his chair, he flipped to the next page of the book. “You aren't even reading that!”

 

            “I know, I'm such a disappointment,” Logan mumbled. Charles yelled at him the rest of the day, and when Logan lifted him from his chair to his bed, he refused to look at him. Logan wanted to find humour in the way Charles was acting, but instead, he felt guilt for what his friend was becoming. Logan left Charles alone in the cabin the next day, spending his time on the deck building a makeshift chair for the shower. He shoved it into the shower and stuck a bunched up towel on top of it before he moved Charles there that night.

 

            “I can do this myself,” Charles snapped as Logan helped him out of his clothing.

 

            “I know,” Logan mumbled but continued to help him. He lifted the frail naked man into his arms, and then set him down on the stool he had made.

 

            “Now get out,” Charles snapped and Logan took a step away. “Pull the door.”

 

            “You know I'm not gonna do that,” Logan said, “I can't help if something goes wrong.”

 

            “Nothing will go wrong! It's a shower, not deep sea diving!” he snapped. Logan frowned at him, and then yanked the plastic door across the shower. He listened to Charles moving around for a minute, and then he went out into the other room. Charles was angrier then Logan had ever seen him, but he seemed to be coming back to himself. Logan dropped down onto the bench beside the table; he let his eyes close, feeling sleep take over. It was another seizure that woke Logan, it was almost an hour later, and he panicked when he realised it. He managed to get to Charles, inject him, and then collapse to the wet floor. It hurt more this time, and when he looked at the back of his hands, he realised that his sunburns were cracked and bleeding now.

 

            He staggered back to his feet, reaching out and turning off the shower, and then he lifted Charles up. The man was sobbing, crying so hard that Logan was worried he would hurt himself. Charles was nothing in his arms, more like a skeleton than a man, but Logan still staggered as he walked. His arms ached with the effort it took to keep them up, not because of Charles, but his own bones weighing him down. Each step felt more impossible than the one before it, and Logan wasn't sure how he had ever been able to move his body before. He tried to ignore the pain, tried to focus on Charles' sobbing, to make him move faster. He ended up dropping Charles unceremoniously onto his bed, begging that none of the man's bones broke, and then Logan dropped to the floor beside him. Logan took a few deep, gasping breaths, as he listened to the other man sob. He needed to get Charles clothing, or he was going to freeze and get sick. “I remember his eyes,” Charles whispered after a few minutes. His words came out in gasping breaths, as he tried to calm down and speak. “Empty, red-black voids staring up at me. I see them in my dreams and they consume me.”

 

            “He would never blame you, Charles,” Logan said.

 

            “I killed them all,” he said as a shaking hand reach toward Logan. “Why have you let me live? Why have you forced me to—” Charles choked on his words, as the next sob came, his body shook and he closed his eyes. When some of the pain in Logan's limbs had eased, he got to his feet, wrapped his wounds and found Charles clothing. He dressed him slowly, without the normal fight that came with it. Charles cried and let himself be manhandled around the bed. Then Logan laid him out, pulled the blankets up to his chest, and walked away from him. Neither of them slept that night. Charles rolled onto his side and remembered what had happened. Logan went to the table, and slowly stitched closed his wounds, they refused to stop bleeding on their own now. He redressed the wounds once he was done because blood was still leaking from between the stitches. He stared down at his aged hands and wondered for the first time if Charles would outlive him.

 

 

*********

So count your blessings every day

It makes the monsters go away

And everything will be okay

You are not alone

You are right at home

Goodnight, goodnight

 

*********

 

 

            Logan started talking about the X-men one morning, saying little things like how well someone made coffee, or how someone else laughed. Charles shouted at him to stop, told him that he couldn't listen to him dredge up the dead so Logan stopped for a while. He waited a few more days before he brought them up again, and this time Charles didn’t fight him as hard. So, he talked about stealing Scott's motorcycle and training in the Danger Room with Gambit. He talked about losing fights like he was proud of it and slowly the fight in Charles died out. Logan talked about good memories he had of them when he started, the memories that he used to make it through each day of solitude. He talked about the memories that had always been private thoughts, the ones that he had never shared before. They were the memories he clung to, when the feelings of self-hatred and a life too long, flared in his chest. The ones he knew he didn't deserve but had and guarded jealously. Now he told Charles about them, never looking at the other man when he spoke because that would make this conversation too real.

 

            He talked about eating breakfast together when no one wanted to be awake, and the students were tired and careless with their powers. He told him about helping frantic children hide or fix broken things around the mansion. He talked about helping some students fill Scott's office with ping pong balls, after a particularly hard exam and then trying to convince Jean not to help Scott clean it up. He talked about how Jean laughed and agreed to let Scott do it alone. He told him about being careless with his own powers, about using his claws to cut food and shred paper. He talked about memories that made Charles laugh with him and slowly Charles shared his own memories.

 

            He had more happy memories and times in his life then Logan did and he seemed to realise that. Sometimes, he would slowly trail off and Logan would beg for him to share them. He wanted to make Charles remember all the good things. He wanted to remind him of all the good things he had purposely done for the world before the accidental bad. But, Charles had bad memories, in equal parts to his good ones. So, when Charles stumbled into those memories, Logan let him talk. He let him choke out the words, as he stared out into the open ocean water. When the memories were too much for him, Logan talked about his own memories again. He talked about the harder parts of living in the mansion, like watching people grow and move on. Knowing that he would never get to do that, he'd never get love or a family, or even a life outside of his mutation. Logan talked about people he had loved, about the ones that had died, about how he destroyed everything. He talked about everything that he had ever kept inside of himself, about all the things he had done and hidden from everyone.

 

            They started spending their days talking about memories, and Charles seemed to become more like his old self as they did. His memories cleared and sometimes he seemed like the same man he had been when Logan met him. But, then dementia would take hold, and it dragged the man screaming into his own mind. He was locked away deep inside his own thoughts, but it didn't matter how hard he struggled, there was no villain to escape from this time. Just the ravages of time and the constant militant march towards death.

           

            “I've never heard you speak so much,” Charles said softly as Logan lifted him into his chair. His legs swung uselessly, thumping against Logan's side, and making Logan wince in pain that he shouldn't feel.

 

            “I figured it was time,” Logan answered.

 

            “I think you're right,” Charles said.

 

            The next seizure came a month later when they were sitting in silence, fishing off the side of the boat. Logan jammed the needle into Charles' arm, tearing the flesh as he did. He collapsed next to the man once it was over; his heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth full of blood. Charles was gasping in his chair, hands opening and closing, grasping for the fishing rod that had gone overboard when the seizure started. Logan pushed himself up when the taste of blood was too much for him, he leant heavily against the side of the boat and then spat his mouthful of blood into the choppy water. “I'll get bandages,” he mumbled as she went back into the cabin. When he came back Charles was asleep, his breathing still ragged and broken, but still coming. Logan cleaned the blood from his arm before pressed a wad of gauze over the injury and taping it in place.

 

            He stumbled a little when he stood back up straight, shook vertigo from his head, and then dropped down into his chair. The chair supported him for a second, and then he felt the frame give out and collapse under him. He crashed to the ground in a heap, slamming his head against the floor of the boat, and biting down on his tongue. He lay on his back, staring up at the slowly blackening sky, and tasting fresh blood in his mouth. He rolled onto his side, climbing slowly and painfully from the destroyed chair. He wanted to be angry about it, he wished he had the energy to lose his temper and through the remains of the chair overboard, but he didn’t. So, instead, he pushed the chair to the side of the boat and found another one tucked away in storage. Charles was awake again, when he came back to the deck, staring at the remains of the chair.

 

            “It’s going to rain,” Charles said.

 

            “I’ll take you in,” Logan answered. He left the other chair on the deck and wheeled Charles inside just before the rain started to fall. The ocean would be rougher tonight, throwing the boat harder as the weather tore at their home. Logan made them dinner, they ate, and neither of them spoke to each other. It wasn’t until Logan was lifting Charles into his bed, that anything was said.

 

            “Do you think they could ever forgive me?” Charles whispered, more like he was talking to the darkness than Logan.

 

            “I don’t know,” Logan answered because he couldn’t bring himself to lie about it. Charles stared up at him for a minute and then nodded his head slowly.

 

            “They shouldn’t,” he said as Logan pulled the blankets over him. “They shouldn’t.”

 

 

*********

Their tears are filling up their glasses  
No expression, no expression  
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow  
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

*********

 

           It was midafternoon when Logan realised that Charles hadn't called for him yet. He hadn’t heard anything at all, no movement or crying, nothing but the ocean and the wind. So, after a few minutes of just breathing, he went to the bedroom. He pulled the blankets back, and he could tell that Charles was gone. His eyes were still closed but his chest wasn't moving. Logan took one of Charles' hands and pressed his fingers against the pressure point on his wrist. Logan hoped for a second, that he could feel a heartbeat there, but he knew it was the tremor in his own hands that was causing the feeling. He sunk to his knees next to the bed and struggled to keep himself from crying. He lost the fight against his tears, buried his face into the blankets beside Charles' and sobbed until he couldn't anymore.

 

            Logan struggled back to his feet, feeling too old and heavy to lift himself from where he was. He got Charles' chair, pulled it up next to the bed, and then realised that he wouldn't be able to put him into it. Charles' body was locked in place, limbs stiff with rigor mortis. So Logan just lifted the man, awkward and straight, into his arms. He carried him pressed against his chest, shuffling comically through the room and down into the boat. He already knew what he was going to do when Charles passed and he didn't want to waste time. He had spent the last nine months alone with Charles, and more often than he liked to admit, he thought about their deaths. He set the man's body in the cold storage area, wrapped in blankets with pillows like he was only sleeping. Then he went back to the cabin, used the satellite messenger to send a message to Caliban. He had decided when they were out on the ocean, that Charles deserved to be buried on land, buried where he had done the most for other people. So, he sent Caliban his arrive time and where to be and then sailed back to land.

 

It took him over a month to make it; sailing up the Saugatuck River until he couldn’t go any further, but when he arrived, Caliban was there, the truck idling on the side of the road.

 

            “Right on time,” Logan said as he climbed off the boat and tied it to a tree near the edge of the river.

 

            “I was surprised to hear from you,” Caliban answered adjusting his hat. “I never thought I'd see you again.”

 

            “Same,” Logan answered.

 

            “Is he...?”

 

            “He's dead,” he answered stepping back onto the boat. Caliban didn't follow him, just stood next to the truck glancing nervously up and down the road. Logan hadn't been able to check on Charles' body after he first placed him there, eating fish he caught and tossing the remains back out into the water so that he didn't need to open the cold room. He hesitated at the door, gripping the door handle, and breathing slowly. He finally yanked the door open, and besides a slight smell, Charles looked the same. Getting Charles off the boat was easy, his body had relaxed, and Logan was able to put him back into his chair. He struggled to get him up the few steps to the upper level of the boat, but once he was there it was fine.

 

            “He looks like he sleeping,” Caliban mumbled, as he hurried down to the river’s edge to help lift the wheelchair onto the land.

 

            “We better get moving fast, I dunno how long until he really starts to smell,” Logan said sounding harsh and unkind. They laid Charles out in the back of the truck and covered him with blankets. Logan realised that he was fixated on making it look like he was just sleeping, as he went back to the boat for a pillow. He tucked it under Charles' head when he got back, staring at him for a minute, before climbing into the truck and sitting down.

 

            “To the school?” Caliban asked.

 

            “I think it's the best place for him,” Logan answered. Caliban pulled back out onto the road, and Logan stared at his boat, hoping it would still be there when they got back. The keys were tucked in his jacket pocket, but it didn't mean much when scraps were always valuable. They sat in silence as Caliban drove and Logan watched the automatic trucks go by. It was only 40 minutes to get from the river’s edge to the old entrance of the mansion. But, there wasn't an entrance anymore, just something that looked like the edge of a blast area from a bomb. Caliban drove as far as he could until he hit a fence that was wrapped around the property. A large sign slapped onto the front of it, warning that it was unstable land and dangerous.

 

            The property seemed to have been left, untouched and rotting since they had fled. There was no sign that anyone had tried to clean away the damages, and Logan suddenly realised, there was a good chance no one came back for the bodies. That underneath all the rubble and the years of neglect, his family lay rotting. Logan ignored the ache in his chest as he climbed out of the truck. Caliban retrieved Charles' wheelchair from the back and Logan lifting the man's body up. He settled him into the chair, draping the blanket over his lap like he was trying to keep him warm, and then they moved on. It was easy enough to get through the gate, and once they were inside they headed for the metal sphere that had saved Charles’ life.

 

            Erik’s body was still there, left to rot in the sun and was now nothing but a skeleton with missing bones. Logan swore when he saw him, covered his hands with his hands, and dug his fingers into the skin of his temples. Caliban brought him two shovels from the back of the truck, and once Logan had calmed down, they started to dig. It was slow, and Caliban had to take a few breaks to get out of the sun and cool down since he couldn’t take any of his layers of clothing off. Logan didn’t stop, just shucked off his shirt, and worked harder. He dug down until the foundation of the school would let him go no deeper, and then he dug a second hole next to the first one. Caliban helped him move Erik’s remains into the second hole, covering what was left of the man with dirt and rubble.

 

            They both moved Charles’ body, setting him in the hole that wasn’t deep enough but was better than Logan had hoped for. They couldn’t find words to say to each other, over Charles’ body, but Logan thought it was for the best. Instead, the worked silently and quickly to fill the hole again. The metal sphere acted as a grave marker, marking the graves, and letting Caliban find them again later. Caliban retreated to the truck again, letting Logan sit with what had happened. Logan sat on the ground at the end of the grave, hand flat and spread out on the dirt there. He sat silently for almost an hour before he managed to say anything. “You wanted…” Logan said slow fighting away the tears that were burning in his eyes. “You wanted back here so badly… now… you get to be with them. There all here.” Logan gestured out across the property and then scrubbed at the tears in his eyes. He forced himself up off the ground, stumbling back to the truck, not giving himself time to look back. He couldn’t bring himself to manage anymore. He slammed the door closed after he climbed inside and Caliban back up and headed back onto the road without saying.

 

            They had been on the road for another 20 minutes when Caliban looked over at Logan. “Do you remember Callie Betto?” he asked.

 

            “Yeah,” Logan answered.

 

            “She’s staying with us,” Caliban said.

 

            “Good,” Logan answered his voice still thick with held back tears.

 

            “I’ll take her here… She’s already agreed. She’ll grow a tree over them. To keep them safe,” Caliban said. Logan clenched his jaw and covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t stop the tears then and sobbed into his palms. Caliban stay quiet for him, let him cry until they reached the edge of the river again. He pulled onto the side of the road and cut the engine. “You could come with me,” Caliban said softly, once Logan seemed to have calmed down again.

 

            “No,” he answered. “No, it’s time to go.” Logan got out of the truck one last time, nodding curtly at Caliban, and then he went to the boat. It sat still in the river, empty like he had left if, and intact. Caliban called after him, but Logan had already untied the boat and was back onboard before the man reached him.

 

            “You don’t have to be alone, Logan,” Caliban called.

 

            “It’s none of your business,” Logan snapped and then was back in the cabin. He couldn’t hear the next thing that Caliban shouted, drowning it out with the sound of the boat coming to life again. He turned and sailed back down the river, and away from memories of this place.

 

 

*********

I saw the light fade from the sky  
On the wind, I heard a sigh  
As the snowflakes cover  
My fallen brothers  
I will say this last goodbye

*********

 

            Logan sat on the deck of the boat, the ocean feeling still and almost unmoving where he was. His body was tired, feeling too heavy and thin, he hadn’t been able to eat in days. Unwilling to open any of the cans in storage, and too tired to catch anything. He sat staring out at the water, his gun resting heavily on his legs. He knew it was time to go, he knew it since the moment he had last lifted Charles from his bed. Today felt like the right day for it, with a little window and calm waters. Logan moved slowly, lifting the gun into his hands, adamantium bullet already loaded and ready. He slipped the barrel of the gun into his mouth, closed his eyes, and fired. The shot didn’t echo in the air around his body, there was too much space for that. Instead, it fired, tore through him, and his body slumped down. The gun fell from his mouth, clattering to the deck unheard by anyone else.

 

            The boat floated alone for days, Logan’s body burning under the heat of the sun until a storm came. The boat spun through the waters, waves crashing against the sides, sending his body to the deck. It slammed from side to side, until a wave crashed over the edge of the boat, pulling it sideways. Logan’s body tumbled from the ship, hitting the water and sinking. His skeleton pulled him down, limp and lifeless to the bottom of the ocean. His body hit the bottom, sending a puff of dirt up around him. Fish tore his flesh away, until all that was left was his adamantium bones, leaving behind the only thing about him that was worth anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I do not think that Logan is worthless, the last sentence is meant to be a reflection of his own opinions of himself. I think he deserves all the best things and to be away from the bullshit.


End file.
